


What Do You Do?

by clementinelemontime



Series: Cuckoo [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Bruce Wayne (mentioned) - Freeform, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fantasy, Growing, Healing, Ice Cream, Love, M/M, Magic, Meet the Family, Meeting the Parents, Monsters, New love, Protectiveness, Threats of Violence, hitting children, humor?, light homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 15:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14311962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clementinelemontime/pseuds/clementinelemontime
Summary: In which Slade thinks on his new relationship and the vexing situation at hand while he and Dick make their way to Wayne Manor.Sequel (first in a series) to "Ascension"





	What Do You Do?

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the Prologue to the sequel series to the story "Ascension". This won't make sense unless you read that, sorry. This is mostly happening in Slade's head and I suppose you could skip this one and wait for the next which will be more eventful. Though, this is just to get a glimpse into the state of mind that Slade is currently in so as to document his growth throughout the series. In the next one we'll get to see where Dick is mentally along with the family.  
> The homophobia in this is assumed due to the time period in the US that is takes place   
> I'm hoping this series will answer the questions that I wasn't able to get to in "Ascension" and wrap this story up in a bow. I hope to also put out the first one in April as well, so look out for that soon.  
> Also, if anyone cares, the theme of the series is to a Jane Taylor poem title "Cuckoo", that was also put to music; both which I adore and recommend checking out. If you do, then you'll have an idea about what the update schedule of this story will look like.  
> Feel free to criticize and thanks for reading.

“Why does it look this way? Is it already starting to melt?” Slade asked eyeing the banana split that he and Dick were sharing. Well, the banana split that Dick had bought for himself under the weak guise that they were to share.

The day was hot for early spring, but that was Gotham. And heat was just fine, it was intense smothering humidity that was the killer, everyone agreed; it was like jumping in a pool of lukewarm water on a scorcher and not being able to come up for air. The lack of clouds as well as the absent breeze and shade did nothing to help the situation. 

Gotham was a bustling city filled to the brim with movers-and-shakers and gangsters and addicts and working girls and unemployed citizens alike and they all seemed to mesh into one homogeneous hum of feet and sweat and shout and laugh and nakedness and bourgeois and sleep and awareness and loathing and affection; a true model of the modern American metropolis.

One would like to be able to say that it was the buzz of the gleaming automobiles that was the main source the never-ending din that the city produced, which would be a controllable factor in making it more peaceful in there, though, in truth, they knew it was their own noise that was polluting the air. If asked, any resident would give a seminar on the unpleasantness of it. But in heart, to the people of of the Godless city, the self-made, contributional ruckus was the warm swaddle that lulled them to sleep and kept them safe in mind.

And to Slade, he would not be able to say it aloud in the front of his mind: he shared the sentiment. After being trapped in that hole in reality that was the “Nameless” village, the life that thrived in this small section of the world was lifting his spirit even higher that it had already been these last few days traveling and would be from then onward. He watched the people go by each day and even now with silent reverence; it was loose like freedom.

“It’s soft served. Not like what you were used to, hm?” Dick explained.

_ That  _ was another thing: everything was new, from the look of the sky right down to the dirt on the roads. Even things like ice cream had changed. There was so much that he didn’t know and Dick would tell him all about it endlessly and with the patience of saint. He wouldn’t even get angry when Slade had to ask questions more than once. And for some reason, he hadn’t even minded asking that much.  _ When had that happened? _ He was very much annoyed at being out of the know with just about  _ everything _ , but he wasn’t angry about it. A few months ago, he would have been angry about it all! He wonders if that was truly enough time to change; to not even notice?

He stares absently into an open patch of grass. The pair are sitting in the park on a damp wooden bench, it had rained the day prior. They were sitting close, but not too close, Slade had his arm around the back of the bench that enclosed himself and Dick in together; not looking too strange or close, though. Many things had changed, but he knew that  _ that _ hadn’t changed. And in spite of trying to blend into the fair sized crowd, several people slowed to stare at the two of them. Among these people were mostly children; they would stop and stare at his eyepatch or ogle his scars until their parent came over to scold them for it. It hadn’t bothered him too much. A few children would stare at Dick and smile; he’d smile back and wave, to which they would wave and run away giggling. Everyone around here must know him from before, Slade deduced.

People were out like ants this day. The stained jungle gyms were littered with tots roughhousing around and waiting turns to use the newer looking swing sets. Slade watched a young mother in a well stitched pink dress nurse her baby with a scraped knee. She fussed all over him as if he’d taken a tumble down a hill. He grimaced.

Adeline.

And the kids too. And Wintergreen. Where  _ were _ they now?  _ How _ old were they now? Did they look for him and are they still? Are they even still alive? Almost three decades— practically an entire lifetime. He furrowed his brow in worry. Dick looked up from his small feast to stare at him with a concerned gaze.

“You’re worried about seeing my Father, aren’t you?” He asked. Ah, Dick’s father; Dick’s angry father; Dick’s wealthy, angry, father; Dick’s asshole, wealthy, angry, father that hits his children. Well, it was one child, though the semantics didn’t matter. He wasn’t thinking about that can-‘o-worms before, but he was now! Why did he have to remind him? They were slowly making their way to what Dick referred to as “Wayne Manor”. He had wanted to reconcile with his father or something like that. Slade was only half-listening to the foolish idea because it was something that he hadn’t wanted in the slightest. Why couldn’t they just leave all of that in the past and start over somewhere with Slade? Why was the family so important to Dick?

Slade was never one to form an opinion of a person based on another’s accounts or interpretations, but that all seemed to pale at the thought of a parent that was not good to their child. Dick may love him and refrains from bad mouthing the man who half-raised him, but he could not abide that kind of behavior. He may not have been the best father, and he wished he could go back if only to make sure that it wasn’t, so he could, with a good conscience, decide that Bruce Wayne was not a man he could ever come to like. The humidity and the heat, coupled with this train of thought was giving him a headache. Slade sighed. Just thinking about Dick’s family made him want go back to thinking of his own. What a handful.

“Yeah,” he shrugged grinning wolfishly down at Dick. “Wondering how I’m going to corner him on his lonesome on the full moon so I can gobble him up. No one would suspect that a man turned into a wolf and ate another: the perfect crime.” Dick tutted, elbowing him in the ribs and snorted a laugh anyhow. Slade barked out a laugh as well.

“You aren’t funny.” He replied putting down the ice cream in this lap, looking down. His soft smile still present before whispering, “ _ I’m _ worried.” Slade’s head was straight ahead but he eyed him from the side view. Dick looked sad. And that strummed at his heartstrings. There were complications to all of this: not only had the two had a fight along with the animosity that came with Bruce’s lies. But also, Dick’s affliction. And Slade’s affliction. And the affliction, though neither of them would ever refer to it as that ever, that they shared between the two of them; or that was the way so many would see it, even in this advanced time. It was a problem to deal with tomorrow, Slade’s exhausted mind concluded; or a problem to deal with using deceit or violence. It all depended on the situation.

Slade soundlessly moved closer to Dick on their wet little bench wrapping his arm tighter around him. Paying no mind to the heat that it would accumulate, Dick leaned into the embrace. Slade paid no attention to his conscience mind that rang out in warning that the dyad were no longer in seclusion together, they were in public with the world. But his unconscious rang out in jubilation that the dyad were no longer in seclusion together, they were in public, they were living with the world.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this one was a bit dry.  
> Again, thank you for reading.


End file.
